Mud
by AceSoleil
Summary: Drunk Kanji is rash. And maybe a bit of a crybaby. Sequel to Acceptable. Rated M for some coarse language.


**A/N:** I've been thinking of writing a full on, multi-chaptered fic for Persona 4, and this was partly an idea for a scene that I had in mind, and partly a follow-up type thing to Acceptable. I'm deeply in love with this pairing, so I hope they're in character here.

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><p>Kanji doesn't know where he is going or what exactly he'll do when he gets to his destination, but he knows that wandering the streets drunk is definitely not to his benefit. It doesn't loosen the great big cinch in his stomach. Nothing has. Nothing from the kind hand that Yu-senpai had laid across his shoulders to the open pity that Chie and Yukiko had shown him.<p>

Kanji is in knots and there is only one way to solve the problem. A solution that might ruin the rest of his life, yeah, but anything is better than this. Being tied up in a great big knot, so tight that he can't feel anything else. Nothing but the anger and the guilt and resentment.

_Naoto will be disappointed_, something in him says solemnly.

Fuck Naoto, he thinks in reply, and immediately regrets thinking it.

He doesn't resent Naoto. He just needs-

Tatsumi Kanji doesn't know what he needs, in that moment. He knows that what he _wants _is trouble. Heaps of it. Biker gangs, punks, thugs, all of it-what he was feeling was nothing that cracking a few skulls wouldn't fix. And then the knot would unfurl and leave him strewn out on the concrete, back to himself again. And then-

_And then you'll get locked up for life and Naoto won't forgive you._

He hates it when his inner voice makes sense. What happened to all that shit he'd spouted at Naoto when her grandfather passed? He'd reasoned with her then, why couldn't he reason with himself now?

And Kanji thinks that the answer is that he's never been very good at reasoning with himself. Thinking isn't his strong suit, never was-he only felt and reacted and apologized because, well... feeling and reacting without thinking were what got him to where he was now, right? He wasn't a thug but he hadn't done enough to dissuade the people who thought he was.

Kanji thinks he'll live a thug and die a thug and maybe that's okay because he wasn't changing anyone's mind anyway.

And then Naoto is in his path.

And then Naoto iswatching him with those eyes.

And Kanji has to pull himself up to a stop because he can't just bowl Naoto over and go on his merry way. It isn't right. So instead, he says, "Move." The sound rumbles out of his chest like the stirring of a truck engine and for a moment Kanji is pleased that he can sound so intimidating, so strong.

And Naoto doesn't move. She just steps right up to him and says, "Unacceptable. You're behaving foolishly, Tatsumi-kun." Intimidating as Kanji sounds, there is something scarier in her voice-ice? A challenge? Or maybe a promise. A promise that says _whatever trouble you get into is nothing compared to what I have in store._

Kanji won't back down. He resolves himself to it, he won't let himself be bullied by a runt-but as he glares down into Naoto's face, her blue-grey eyes sparking with the sort of fierceness that had won him over in the first place, Kanji realizes that this runt has his number.

He takes a step back and sits on the ground.

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><p>Naoto is somewhat relieved when Kanji finally backs down, finally stops <em>staring<em> at her with that look like hell in his eyes. She is less relieved when Kanji stops looking like the devil and starts to resemble a broken man. She is even less relieved when he plunks himself down in the mud without a second thought-hadn't he complained once that mud was impossible to wash out? Or had he said "blood?"-and realizes that she will have to follow suit if she is to have any hope of getting through to him.

Naoto has spent the evening seething, because she has insisted this entire time that Kanji's facade is a poor one and that he is suffering underneath, that he has been since the textile shop was found vandalized and his mother, in the shock of it all, had succumbed to a heart attack.

No matter how much Tatsumi Kanji insisted otherwise, he is _not_ okay.

But no one-not Yu or Rise or Chie or Yukiko or Yosuke-had checked up on him again since the first time. _Give him space_, they'd said. _Let him be_.

How could Naoto be expected to leave him be? Perhaps it's true that she isn't the one who should be offering consolation. That was a role that was more suited to Yu-senpai or perhaps Yukiko-senpai. But everyone seemed to think Kanji would tough it out. That he'd be okay with time.

Naoto isn't convinced that time will do anything for Kanji but make it worse, so she determines that the least she can do is attempt to give him her sympathies, and maybe a listening ear if he needs it. She feels she owes him that much.

Or at least that had been her plan, until she'd heard from Yukiko-senpai's mother that she'd seen Kanji pass through, looking ready to raise hell.

Naoto thinks she prefers Kanji the hellraiser to Kanji the despondent.

"What were you thinking, Tatsumi?" she blurts, before she's had time to gather herself. She waits for an answer from him that she isn't sure will come but before she can speak again-

"Dunno. Ain't never been good at thinkin'. Guess I was gonna kill 'em." And Naoto knows he's being honest because he looks as confused by his words as she is.

"Tatsumi-" She's prepared to launch into a tirade, but Kanji looks like he's long gone. He gets that look in his eye frequently these days. Scolding him won't help. Naoto pinches the bridge of her nose and does her very best to stifle a noise of utmost frustration. Kanji knows right from wrong, so scolding him would be unnecessary. The problem is, that Naoto can't figure out an appropriate solution to this problem.

"D'you think she hates me?"

Naoto startles at the question. Kanji's eyes are still far away-he's drunk, she realizes, and a surge of irritation comes with it-but his hands are trembling violently. Naoto keeps her voice carefully level as she asks, "Who?"

She might not have been surprised if he'd asked about Chie, whom he seems to hold in high regard, or Yukiko, who he has known since he was very young. His answer, however, stuns her.

"Ma," he whispers hoarsely.

"Tatsumi," she begins softly, unsure of what exactly she should say. She isn't really sure what she _can_ say. "Your mother couldn't fault you for- she loves you very much and-"

"Loved," Kanji interrupts miserably.

"Your mother is still alive."

"For now."

Naoto's temper finally boils over-with a mighty heave she shoves Kanji into the mud. "You'd write off your mother? You'd give up on your own mother?" Naoto jabs a finger into the center of his chest, and lowers her voice, "_Coward_." The word seems to have the desired effect—Kanji's face crumples and she knows in the instant she says it that she shouldn't have, that it wasn't an appropriate response. Kanji is afraid and hurting and confused and slinging insults is helping no one.

Kanji sucks in a single, harsh breath, bringing a large hand up to cover his eyes. Kanji is perfectly still for a moment and Naoto feels a sting of guilt-she hadn't meant to make him cry, she should have sent Yu in her place, dammit-then the breath Kanji holds hisses out between his gritted teeth and he pulls Naoto against him and holds her there. A shiver races down Naoto's spine. She quickly attributes it to the fact that Kanji is getting _mud all over her_.

"N-Nao..." When Kanji manages to choke out a broken utterance of her name, his breath stirring the hairs on top of her head, her fingers clench involuntarily into the (horrifically muddy and absolutely ruined) fabric of his shirt. "I... I c-can't..." Kanji hiccups and Naoto's chest suddenly feels like a giant knot of feelings that she is too unnerved to untangle and identify. She very nearly pushes him away but then he speaks again.

"Don't go. Please."

Naoto isn't sure if she hears Kanji speak or feels him speak—he's buried his nose into her hair and his lips brushing over the strands at the crown of her head does something indescribable to her insides and saps the strength from her legs.

Her mouth feels like a vat of dust and sand when she opens it, but she manages to stammer, "I-It's... okay."

As if it were all he ever needed to hear, Kanji holds her closer, crying quietly into her shoulder. If Kanji notices Naoto's fingers trembling incessantly as she combs them through his (muddy, filth-caked) hair, he doesn't say anything of it, even after his tears have stopped.

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><p>Kanji isn't sure what needs to be explained first-how he got home last night, or how he ended up in bed caked in dried mud (and fully clothed) beside an equally muddy (and also thankfully clothed) Shirogane Naoto.<p>

But his head is pounding, and god, he hopes his scramble for the bathroom doesn't wake Naoto. If it doesn't, his retching does—he flinches at her tiny hand tracing the curve of his spine, gently rubbing as though to soothe away his sickness. Kanji's stomach does a flip that makes him queasy in a different way.

"Are- are you alright?" Naoto asks, and Kanji is deeply embarrassed because, well… he can't answer, because he's afraid he might vomit if he tries. Considering that Naoto is redfaced and can't seem to meet his eyes, he isn't really sure that he's supposed to answer at all.

He doesn't know what changes, in that moment. But the surge of courage—and a lull in his nausea—finally tug him into action, though a small one it might be.

"Uh… um… Thanks for… for last night," he murmurs and forces out his next words as quickly as possible, "D-d'you wanna stay for breakfast?"

And after a long moment of hesitation, stammering softly, Naoto accepts his offer.


End file.
